


Ordained

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Ordained, Rituals, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 13: Magic. John finds out just how much Sam knows about the occult, and why...  Mention of Jess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordained

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Bobby eases the truck into the driveway, and John Winchester barks out a half laugh.

“You tryin’ to sneak up on those boys, Bobby?”

“Nah. Too easy. ‘Least the house is still standing.”

The house was dark, and John privately wonders, wincing, if the boys were still in bed, whether they’d been there for most of the last two days or not. The two men tromp in the kitchen door, and John grins to himself. His boys are trained right – well, at least Sam is – kitchen’s probably cleaner than it was when they left. Bobby snags a pair of beers from the fridge, and follows his best friend into the living room. The boys have a good fire lit, warding off the chill the house always seems to have at the best of times. Bobby doesn’t know if it’s the lack of insulation, too many protective spells, or all the worrying that gets done in the house. Dean’s splayed across the whole of the couch, drooling slightly in his sleep, and Sam’s on his stomach in front of the hearth, head pillowed on a legal pad, pen lax in his hand.

Bobby chuckles, lets his easy chair take him in, years of comfort broken into the rumpled leather. John takes a seat on the hearth, drops a fond hand onto the top of Sam’s head, looking over at the text Sam’s studying. The touch wakes the boy, and he smiles up at his father. John sees his little boy in the smile, and his face softens under the two day scruff covering it.

“Maybe you should hit the sack, Sammy,” he says, voice low. Sam hears the the obscure yearning in the man’s voice, the tone evokes vivid memories of being a toddler, settled in John’s lap with strong arms around him. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, and brushes against his father’s knee, settling for the mild contact. His lack of objection when John picks up the legal pad is another concession to his father’s longing. Sam can hardly keep his eyes open, they may have gotten a good night’s sleep on Friday, but Saturday night was filled with long hours of play and sex – Sam shifts uncomfortably at the memory, the welts on his behind waking up. He yawns and readjusts his position, accidentally leaning on John’s knee as his balance fumbles in the middle of the yawn. He doesn’t shy away when John’s arm steadies him, and doesn’t move. The older man’s attention is fixed on the translation Sam was working on.

“Bobby,” he says, gesturing with the pad, and the other man leans forward, takes it. After a few minutes, Bobby’s eyebrows raise.

“Sam. Son, where did you learn this – this is a closed ritual – all I’ve ever found is information that simply says that it’s closed, and the Latin encrypted.”

“Um.” Sam blushes, coughs to give himself an excuse to look away from Bobby’s demanding gaze, and the noise wakes Dean.

“Dad. When’d ya get back?”

“Not long. Get to bed, son.” The tone is unmistakably an order, and sleepily Dean obeys, reaching out a hand to grab Sam’s arm. “Nah,” says his father. “Sam wants to look at the text we brought back. Be up in a bit, after curiosity kills the cat.”

“Mmm. Night.” Dean wanders off in a haze of sleepiness, and John shakes his head. He’s not sure the boy even woke up fully, and he turns to his youngest, who has relaxed somewhat.

“Sam.”

Sam’s clear green eyes look straight at Bobby this time. “I was given the key when I was ordained.”

John chokes on his beer.

“Ordained – Sam, you don’t know what kinds of trouble-“ He breaks off, seeing the look of pain on the boy’s face. There’s only two things that put that look there, and the same look crosses John’s face every time he thinks about Mary. “Go ahead, Sam. Explain it to me, son.” His drill sergeant’s tone is tempered with the compassion welling up inside of him, and he takes a long drink from the cool brown bottle. Sam nods, fumbles the cap off a bottle of water that John hadn't noticed, and takes a sip. His mouth still goes dry every time he thinks of her, and John knows what that feels like.

“Jess… Jess was in a coven. I didn’t know until we moved in together – don’t know how she hid it from me.”

Bobby snorts. “Love is blind, son. Happens to everyone sooner than later. Even Dean-o up there fucked up a time or two because of a girl.” The reminder is more for John than Sam. The boy just nods, and John shoots a warning look at his friend.

“Researched it when I found out, realized the only way I could know was to be initiated.”

“In her coven?”

“No. She… it was a Dianic coven, but it was started by a daughter of a local Gardinerian group – some of them are Masons, too... I, well, I…”

“Spit it out, Sam.”

“Dad…”

John’s not terribly happy with what he’s hearing – he thought the kid knew better, he’s always steered them away from getting in too deep with the occult. He prompts for a few more minutes, and keeps Bobby quiet with a look. Finally, he hauls Sam up, and plants the first one of what he intends to be several swats on the kid’s behind, only Sam yelps and flinches like he’s been branded, not spanked. He frowns, thinking of the cuts and bruises from the last hunt, which should have healed by now – if Sam’s hiding an infected wound… JHe doesn’t speak, he just hooks a finger in the back of Sam’s sweats and draws them down to reveal the site where the cut from that hunt was. And John quickly finds himself blushing, releasing the fabric from his grip. Bobby’s not sure which one of them is more red in the face, John or his son, and chuckles.

“If you’re having trouble sitting already, boy, I suggest you speak up before your daddy or I make sure the trouble’s prolonged.”

Sam clears his throat, looks at Bobby to save himself. He hands the book over to the older man. “The Gardinerian group initiated me, I studied with a mentor – one of the Masons - and eventually made third degree. They don’t usually do that unless you’re about to start a coven of your own, but I was so close…” Sam’s voice trails off painfully for a moment, and he swallows. “I was close to graduation, and they wanted to honor me with it.”

John’s dander is back up at this point, and he finishes landing the intended swats – six of them – on Sam’s sore backside, though he’s not smacking very hard, doesn’t need to, after seeing how red Sam’s backside is. Sam’s blushing more, and looking down at the floor, and John yanks him around, forces the boy’s chin up. He gets a defiant look in return, and the boy chokes for a moment, then beats John in the race to speak first.

“I did it to keep her safe, to understand what she was doing.” And with that he’s got to close his eyes against the pain, because if he’s not careful, with the late hour, and the fatherly spanking, he’s gonna have his eyes full of tears, the way they’re burning. He hears Bobby move, wonders what the older man is doing, and then his father’s arms are wrapped around him, rocking and soothing. “Dad…”

“I know, son, I know.” His father’s voice is rough and gritty, hoarse with emotion. The grandfather clock ticks, and then both of them are looking up, enough breath stolen from the air around them to hold their hollowed frames upright. The heat of the fire slowly leaches the moisture from their eyes, their faces. Then Bobby’s sitting on the hearth with them, holding the text and the legal pad.

“You’re not breaking vows, son, by translating this for us.”

“No sir. You’re going to use the info to go after something that’s hurting people, you need to know this ritual, need me to teach you the magic. I can do that. Taught Dad a couple of the protection spells already, this is no different.”

Bobby looks a little stunned. “Always thought that was just a sham.”

“Most of ‘em are. These, their lines go way back. And…well… some of it works better for me, than others. Some of it, I added to with what you n’ Dad n’ Jim taught me, Missouri taught me a little more on top… I… Dad, if you want to know…”

“I do want to know, son. But I think it’ll wait - you and I will find some time.”

“I can’t think of how to tell you everything about those four years, Dad.”

John gives his son a tight smile. “Need to know basis, son. And this, well, I think Bobby and I need to know, if we’re gonna get this groundwork done right.”

Sam nods. “Dean…”

“Dean doesn’t need to know.” John hears the irony ricocheting around the room. So many years, it was Sam who didn’t need to know, and now the roles are reversed. But his oldest boy, he just doesn’t have the patience and precision of thought needed for the spellwork, for the research. Dean’s all instinct and training and precision in the field, and it’s why they make such a good team, with John to balance the two of them, and people like Bobby and Jim to back them up. All in all, it’s a kind of magic in itself, and he ruffles Sam’s hair, sends him up to get some sleep. The books will wait on the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Winger - Baptized by Fire


End file.
